If the Shoe Fits
by BuilderofLostWorlds
Summary: A sensitive gypsy girl in disguise comes face to face with the mistreatment of her people in Paris, and falls in love with a bright gypsy whose hiding a few secrets of his own.
1. Just Exploring

**AUTHORS NOTE:  
**I do not own the Hunchback of Notre dame in any way, shape or form. This a re-write of SarahBee's fan fiction, entitled 'No More Waiting'.

Small feet, bare and calloused, pounded against the dirt street. They flew faster and faster down the twisted roads, barely touching the ground. Then one ankle twisted slightly over a surfacing stone, and the other ankle followed suit. Thin arms pushed a thin body off the dirt road. The seventeen year old stood shakily on her feet, but could no longer run. A sheen of sweat glimmered on her forehead, her face unusually pale. Her hands, small and rough, covered her mouth as she bent forward.

"Carmen!" An older man's voice yelled.

Her face was hot, cheeks flushed an unnatural shade of red against her pale face. Warm tears poured from her eyes, trying vainly to cool her off. Her stomach lurched suddenly, and one hand flew to it, trying to keep her dinner from the night before down.

"Carmen? Are you alright?" The man was much closer now, one hand gently holding onto her elbow. It was her uncle. Her father was no longer there to comfort her. His arms wrapped gently around her, pulling Carmen's wet face into his chest, not caring that she would stain his clean shirt.

"I'm sorry, _carina_," His words were soft as he brushed a hand through her hair. "I did not think that you would be so upset. Next time, we will leave when you say so." Carmen shuddered as she tried to swallow her tears.

The words tied into knots, tumbling over one another in their frantic attempts to leave, mixing with her tears. But there were no words that could describe how she felt. She had just run from the gallows where an innocent man had been hung. His only crime was being polite to another man's wife. But that wasn't what affected her so deeply. It was his face before the chair had been kicked out. Bright red and sweating. His eyed were dry, flickering between the rope around his neck and the crowd, frantically searching for someone that wasn't there. Then the chair was gone and his face turned a violent shade of red before it grew purple, then slowly faded into the shade of cream before Carmen ran.

She hated thinking of death. Yes, Carmen knew that it existed. She knew it all too well. But she hated having it thrown in her face, being forced to watch another man die, and think about what he must be feeling. Just waiting for them to pull the lever. Waiting for his family to arrive so he could say one last good-bye. Being afraid that they couldn't or wouldn't.

Her uncle wrapped an arm around Carmen's waist, half-carrying them to the inn. When her parents died of the plague, Carmen had to stay with her Aunt, who had left home to marry a gypsy. He was a kind man, but his heritage often prevented him from being honest. They had traveled through Spain and France for the last ten years.

They were now posing as a merchant family, selling what they had stolen in the last town they visited to earn enough money to last until they reached their next stop. Carmen loved seeing new places, but she hated saying goodbye. She hated leaving behind people that she grew to love. Because Carmen desperately wanted to get married. To find someone that loved her despite being a gypsy. Every town that she visited, Carmen visited the church and dreamed of the wedding that could take place there. But she had only fallen in love once, two years ago. And the thought of his face was still enough to make her hot.

When they reached the inn, Carmen collapsed on the straw mat in her room. She could hear her Aunt in the room next door scolding Mirela, her cousin. From what she could hear of the fight, Mirela had almost bought ale at the tavern. And as innocent young woman it was forbidden to drink. That is, until they were back in the caravan. When they drank until the stars faded in the morning light, and staggered down the road the next day, wishing they hadn't sung that one last ballad.

Carmen didn't like following rules, but she knew better than to disobey, especially as a gypsy. It didn't matter that their skin was a lighter shade than most other gypsies, or that they purchased dresses meant for respectable citizens. The police could sniff out a gypsy like the starving hound fighting for a bone. And she had grown to accept the rules.

Mirela stormed inside, but was careful to not let the door slam behind her. She fell on the bed next to Carmen. "Sometimes I have dreams of Mother and Father burning their rules into ash," she hissed under her breath.

Carmen nodded her head silently and rolled onto her back, so she could get a better look at her cousin. She didn't mind sleeping on the floor while Mirela took the bed. Mirela was older, and the first daughter of Carmen's Aunt and Uncle, so she had a greater right to it.

"Let's run away!" Mirela suddenly sat up, black hair swinging into her round face. Her matching black eyes glittered with excitement. Carmen scoffed. She had lost count of how many times Mirela had threatened to do so in the past.

"Let's pack our bags and leave tonight!" Mirela urged, rolling over in her bed so she could look at her cousin. Excitement made her eyes shine.

Carmen waved a hand dismissively and stood. She walked to the other side of the room where a small pile of her books stood. "You go. I'll stay here."

"What are you doing?" Mirela asked as Carmen picked up the thin book at the top of the pile and flipped through the pages. "You can't even read."

"French. I'm fine with Spanish. And don't tell me where you're going," Carmen threw over her shoulder, refusing to turn around. "That way I won't be able to tell your parents where you're hiding."

"You always say that."

"I do, don't I?"

"You're coming with me."

"What?" Carmen turned around, clutching the primer to her chest. "No, I am not."

Mirela laughed and stood, moving to the rucksack at the foot of her bed. "I'm not running away. But I need to get out. Just for a few hours, and we'll be back before Mother notices."

She forced Carmen to change into an old dress of hers. Carmen was reluctant, but relented. She would let Mirela have her fun. It did no good to try and defy her. Carmen doubted that Mirela would be able to coerce anyone into spending the evening with them. She wasn't very attractive, but outgoing. Carmen was confident that she looked attractive. Some of the time. But it was her shyness that won over.

Her Aunt would tell Carmen that she was so beautiful that men were too intimidated to talk to her. But Carmen always had the tugging suspicion that her Aunt was lying, because she said the same thing to Mirela. The reason men were intimidated by Mirela was because she flaunted her confidence like a prize. She was unafraid of anything life could throw at her.

When Carmen snapped out of her reverie, she was wearing a forest green dress that brushed at her ankles. A brown corset was laced up her front. Carmen hated the color green. Mirela always assured her that it made her eyes stand out. But Carmen loved the color purple. It was bold, but not as bold as red. She wanted to be brave and daring, like the people that would wear red, but she didn't want to throw it in their faces like Mirela. So she would wear purple.

So, with Mirela telling her parents that they were going out to explore the Parisian town, the cousins left the inn. Mirela led the way, dragging Carmen behind her like a dog on a leash. Carmen bit her lip to keep herself from giggling at the thought of what Mirela would do. She was never known for her subtlety. The two meandered about the city, having good enough sense not to get lost in the new area. Carmen halfheartedly pointed out who she liked, Mirela wrinkling her nose with distaste every time. After almost an hour, Mirela lost her patience.

"Merde," She tugged a hand through her hair, impatiently pulling it into a braid. "I don't see why so many people like Paris. There isn't one good looking man in the whole city."

Carmen bit her lip and looked around.

Something colorful caught her eye. Very colorful. A man in a pink mask was packing an equally colorful, yet worn, cart. A slightly torn purple hat with a yellow feather sat on his head at a jaunty angle. His hair, thin and straight as straw, stuck out underneath it. It was black, or maybe a dark enough shade of brown to be mistaken for black. He had a neatly trimmed goatee, which narrowed even further his thin as a reed body.

"What about him?" Carmen asked softly, pointing to the man, obviously a gypsy as well.

Mirela grimaced. "Why must you always pick the oldest men? Carmen, if you are going to be attracted to ugly men, at least let it be someone your own age!"

"Shhh!" Carmen quickly turned Mirela around, so they would both be facing in the opposite direction. "Why must you insist on being so loud?"

"His nose looks like a potato!" Mirela objected.

"Just because he has a big nose or is built like a stick does not mean that I can't find him attractive," Carmen hissed, glancing over her shoulder at the man. He had pulled a flower out of his glove for a little girl. She giggled and managed to grab it before her mother pulled her away.

"Saint Carmen!" Mirela folded her hands together. "Defending the ugly! You know that if you had his potato nose, you would never leave the caravan again!"

"I would!" Carmen argued, her face hot. She knew that she was lying. That if she had a nose like the stranger's, she wouldn't be able to joke so easily about it, or hold it so proudly. She most likely wouldn't be able to go outside. But the stranger seemed fine with his nose. Just like how Carmen came to terms with her broken nose, which seemed perfect in comparison.

Mirela's eyes grew wide. "Carmen, look!"

Taking her eyes off of the retreating gypsy, Carmen turned to see a group of students. They were attractive as well. But in a way that made her head hurt. The way they all looked the same. The same perfectly trimmed hair, the same distant look in their eyes. The same disdain for anyone whose clothes were not weeping with money.

"I wish I could talk to them!" Mirela sighed, longing in her voice. But they were in a much higher social class that Mirela, society would frown on any relationship between the two. And Carmen knew that Mirela, to make matter worse, was no _palmolita_.

The taller cousin rolled her eyes. Every one of the students had their primers tucked carefully under their arms, their noses in the air. Carmen was reminded of the gypsy again, but this was arrogance, not confidence. Carmen imagined stealing one of their primers. It was in much better condition that her own. She shook her head. Her family had only just arrived. They couldn't draw any attention yet.

Mirela walked solemnly to a stone bridge over a small river. She swayed her hips as she walked, but the movement was erratic. She sat on the ledge and swung her legs over the side. Carmen followed obediently.

"What can we do know Carmen?" Mirela asked despondently. "This _pueblo_ has robbed us of our deepest pleasure."

"What else dear sister," Carmen smirked. "But drown ourselves!" She jerked her body forward, laughing lightly as Mirela's arms snatched out to pull her back.

"Carmen!" Mirela scolded. "I am not in the mood for this silliness!"

"But cousin," Carmen said meekly, still smirking. "It's who I am." Mirela scowled at Carmen for a moment before laughing. She swung her head back, letting everyone hear the beautiful full sound.

A group of gypsies walked by the girls, each roughly twenties years old. All Romani, they carried various instruments, and were handsome and clean shaven. It reminded Carmen of the gypsy with the goatee.

Mirela flashed Carmen a devilish smile.

"Gentlemen, might you grant us one last song?" She called out, batting her eyes.

The four men snapped around in synchronization. Carmen bit her lip gently, holding back a laugh. The tallest man eyed the girls warily. The youngest one, who seemed to be the closest to Mirela and Carmen's age, blushed. "Of course! We are in no hurry!" He smiled encouragingly to the men around him who slowly set up their instruments. The tallest man tugged on the strings of his violin and the song began. It was slow with a deep melody that rang through. It boomed into a cadence that dripped in sunlight.

Carmen swallowed hard and brushed at her eyes, where tears were threatening to fall. And as the song faded into silence both girls quickly drew coins from their purses.

"Please, there is no need to-" The blushing man started, but he was cut off when a thin man elbowed him in the side. The blushing man closed his mouth and looked down, tucking the money away up his sleeve.

"I haven't seen you girls around here before," The oldest man started. His muscles bulged out of his sleeves. "Are you new to Paris?"

"Our father is a traveling merchant," Carmen responded. Her innocent and young voice carried quickly to the other men, and they appeared taken aback by the sound. The men glanced at each other. Their faces were unreadable.

"How old are you?" He asked.

"My cousin is seventeen, sir," Mirela chimed in, glancing at the blushing man. She had found her next target. Carmen sighed. He was the most attractive of the four. But that didn't make any difference. Nobody could ever see her in that way. No one ever had. "I am eighteen."

"You look much older!" The oldest man said to Carmen with an entertained smile.

"Thank you," Carmen bowed her head, smiling. She looked up and noticed that one of the gypsies was leaning against a nearby wall. He was thin, and staring into the distance where Carmen could see a graveyard. She could tell that he was biting the inside of his cheek. Impatient with these new girls.

"And what does your father sell?" The tallest one asked.

Carmen ducked her head again, this time from shame. Her cheeks felt hot. "Anything he can get his hands on."

Silence fell over the group.

"We're going to the tavern to meet with some friends. Would you like to join us?" The blushing one asked, discreetly covering his stomach. Carmen's heart sped up, her cousin had actually done it.

"Of course!" Mirela leapt down from the stone bridge with acrobatic grace.

"I'm going home," The bored one called out, almost an invitation for the others.

Carmen looked at Miranda who was gesturing at her to follow. Carmen was nervous. With all her heart she wanted to say no, and she would have under normal circumstances. But for some reason, she couldn't bring herself to refuse. She could feel something coming on the horizon. But maybe it was just her imagination.


	2. It Takes Two

The dimly lit tavern was crowded with gypsies. There were some Frenchmen as well, but they were too drunk to care about the company they were keeping. Chatter, laughing, and yelling overlapped one another in the small room. There were few, like Carmen, who did not come to the tavern to drink. But at the beginning, it was rather boring.

The oldest one Michel, was very nice. The whole tavern greeted him and his brother, the blushing man Gilbert, as the group entered. He smiled at Carmen as he helped her into a seat near the back. He was closer to her age than the other men in the room, having turned twenty the month before. However, Carmen felt no attraction for Michel. She supposed that he was attractive, as well as kind and polite, but she couldn't feel anything more than friendship for him. Carmen smiled, maybe this was for the better. As long as Michel didn't get the wrong idea. And she was determined not to let that happen.

Carefully sitting next to her cousin in the small booth, Carmen smiled at Michel and Gilbert as the brothers sat across from them. They talked for a short while, about their travels and the wonderful places to visit in Paris, before the music started. The crowds surrounding Carmen vanished, leaving behind empty chairs and tankards. One drunk was slumped over his table, clutching an oil lamp and snoring loudly.

Mirela jumped up and held her hands out to Gilbert. "Let's dance!"

The young man blushed again, but stood and led her to the middle of the room, where tables and chairs had haphazardly been shoved to the side, creating a dance area. Carmen blushed too, hoping that Michel wouldn't say the same. She looked across the table, where he seemed to be wondering exactly how to ask, and quickly changed the subject.

"Who taught you to play the flute?" Carmen asked, acting innocent. She smiled disarmingly at Michel.

"Me!" A deep voice boomed. Two gypsies were standing several feet away from Michel and Carmen. One was a stranger, but Carmen recognized the other as the gypsy from the colorful caravan. She could feel her face growing hot. He wore no mask, revealing his nose, which he held high in the air. But he did it in a way that was different from the students, almost as an act of defiance. As if he wanted to tell the world that couldn't define him. Carmen felt her respect for the stranger swell.

The other man was much older, burly, with a graying beard. He sat next to Michel, wrapping an arm around the younger man's shoulder. Michel blushed as if he was ashamed or embarrassed. The familiar gypsy sat next to Carmen, but she avoided looking at him. Even though she could see him smirking at her out of the corner of her eye.

"I'm his father," The burly gypsy said, his voice travelling clearly over the loud music. "My name is Paul."

"From the Bible?" Carmen asked immediately. As soon as the words left her mouth, her face flushed and she ducked her head. She rarely thought before speaking or acting.

"Yes," Paul responded, sounding surprised but entertained. Very much like Michel. "Are you Catholic?"

Carmen swallowed. "Christian."

All three men's eyes widened. They weren't disgusted, or sad, or even the tiniest bit angry. Every one of them was genuinely surprised. Carmen risked a smile at Michel, who was removing his father's arm from his shoulder.

Paul chuckled. "And what is your name dear?"

"Carmen," She murmured. "Not from the Bible." She cast a sidelong glance at the man with the goatee, hoping that somebody would introduce him next. But nobody did.

"Do you play any instruments?" Michel interjected. Carmen pulled back the blush before it could surface. He must have seen her staring at the handsome gypsy.

"Oh, no," Carmen replied. "I don't even sing!" This was the first lie that Carmen learned to tell. Carmen had a voice teacher in her parent's villa. She received lessons three times a week, for two hours each day. Even though the lessons stopped shortly after her parents death when she was eight, Carmen still had a beautiful voice. But when her memories of singing were filled with performing for her parents, it was hard to do it without them.

Her stage fright was horrible, and once she joined the caravan, the other gypsies forced her to sing every night at dinner. Until she stopped speaking for almost two full months. After that, she told all of them that she had lost her singing voice. No one was inclined to push it.

The goatee gypsy laughed, and it made Carmen's stomach curl.

"Horrible isn't it?" She asked with a tone of sarcasm, mentally scolding herself for being attracted to a man more than ten years her senior.

"How do you ever survive?" Paul joked.

"I'm nice to my uncle," Carmen responded with a smile, only half joking.

"She's the merchant's niece," Michel interjected.

"Ah, I saw him today!" The gypsy next to Carmen finally spoke. His voice was deeply accented and twanged with a rich melody that was baritone and tenor at once. Carmen's mind was fighting every natural instinct to respond. To make him keep talking.

"I did as well!" Paul added. "He was talking to the guards, trying to sell them something. Funny how they're so nice to him! They even bought some ribbons for their daughters if you can believe it."

Carmen raised an eyebrow wondering why Paul was so surprised that a guard would buy her uncle's wares. Even if the ribbons were stolen from a run down dress shop, meticulously embroidered by Carmen and Mirela in order to sell. Did he think her uncles goods were so loathsome to purchase?

"The soldiers here aren't very friendly," Michel explained, noticing the enraged look on Carmen's face.

"My son," Paul interrupted loudly, "You are far too kind! I have lived my whole life in this city, and I have never received a kind word from those men! Never a sentence without the words 'scoundrel' or 'vermin'!"

"Maybe we are going about this the wrong way?" The man with the goatee smiled. "Next time we should try and bribe the fat one with pastries!" Carmen's hand flew to her mouth, stifling a laugh.

"It's not funny," Michel said seriously. "The whole of the city has been brainwashed into hating us. It's-"

"Pathetic," The goateed gypsy completed.

"I would have said sad," Michel muttered.

"I agree!" Carmen leant forward, her eyes shining. "It's horrible to hate someone for the color of their skin or their ethnicity or profession! Who can twist people's minds like that?" She would have said more but Mirela and Gilbert danced by, faces glowing. Mirela tilted her head to her cousin, ordering her to dance.

Paul smiled at Gilbert. He was happy for his son, having so much fun with a pretty girl. Turning back to the table, he glanced between Michel and Carmen. The latter of who was staring at the table, her finger tracing a whorl in the wood. His son was staring at her like he did the stars in the sky. With a deep longing. "Go!" He laughed. "You young people dance!"

Carmen's stomach lurched. "I'm sorry, I've never danced like this."

"To this?" Michel asked.

Carmen chose her next words carefully. "I grew up in Spain. My parents taught me the traditional Spanish dances. I know nothing of the fancy French footwork."

"A pity that you can't sing either," The goatee man sympathized.

"Michel will show you!" Paul pushed his son up. Michel immediately sat.

"Papa, if she doesn't want to-" he started.

"It's not that I don't want to-" Carmen tried to explain.

"Then why don't you?" Paul asked. "Go!"

"I'm not a very good teacher," Michel added.

"Then I'll teach you!" Paul declared, running a hand through his graying beard.

"Oh, no you won't!" Michel's voice started to grow higher.

"Both of you, calm down!" The third gypsy ordered, half laughing at the scene. Both men immediately collected themselves. "If Carmen wants to learn, then I will be the one to teach her! That is, if you want to." He smiled widely at Carmen, revealing chipped teeth.

"Monsieur, I am sorry," Carmen bowed her head, smiling. The gypsy cocked an eyebrow. "But I cannot. I don't have the pleasure of knowing your name."

The gypsy stood and bowed, removing his hat as he did so, revealing a hairline that was just beginning to recede. "I am Clopin Trouillefou. It is a pleasure to meet you." He took Carmen's hand and gently kissed her knuckles.

"Then, Monsieur Clopin," Carmen stood as well, brushing her hair back. "You may try to teach me to dance."

"Is that a challenge?" Clopin laughed as he led her to the floor.

"Would you prefer a threat?" She responded with a smirk. When they reached the edge, Clopin swung the young woman to arms length and began to position their arms, muttering under his breath as he did so. Frowning, he removed their hands. "You don't even know how to dance, do you?"

Clopin gave her a wicked smile. "I know the basics."

"Are you sure?"

"Trust me," He grinned and changed the position of their arms one last time.

"Okay," Chancing a look into the crowd, Carmen smiled as she noticed that the rest of the dancers were positioned in the same way. Then Clopin began to dance.

"What am I doing?" Carmen shouted above the music, staring at his feet. The music was too quick, and she was being dragged along by his grip. She tried to pull away and leave the dance floor, but Clopin pulled her closer. Her face flushed as his nose brushed against hers.

She looked down again, trying to mimic his feet. Clopin's hand left Carmen's and pushed her chin up. "Chin up! You'll get it, just don't look down!" He smiled encouragingly at her, his black eyes sparkling.

Carmen closed her eyes and listened to the music. When she found the beat, Carmen opened her eyes and smiled back. Her footwork was still messy, but she could follow the music at least. She was just starting to get used to it when the song faded. Clopin put her hand in the crook of his arm and led her back to the table.

"She's all yours," He announced, handing her over to Michel. The young gypsy stood and came over to Carmen, while Clopin sat next to Paul. The two began to whisper in low tones.

"How was I?" Carmen asked, following Clopin out of the corner of her eye.

"You aren't that good," Michel said with a small smile.

Carmen frowned. "I'm trying."

The next song had already started when Michel led Carmen back to the dancing. She didn't last very long that time. She tripped over Michel's large foot and landed in a disheveled heap on the floor. The surrounding crowd laughed, and Carmen's face flushed. But dancing with Michel was so different from dancing with Clopin. He was so much more muscular, Carmen could barely wrap an arm around him. His steps were heavier as well, much less graceful that the long and even ones of Clopin.

"I'm hopeless!" She exclaimed as the pair returned to the table. The older gypsies were leaning heavily on one another as they laughed.

"You'll get better with practice," Michel assured her. He adjusted his hat to wipe his forehead, revealing even more black curly hair hiding underneath.

Carmen sat down, sweeping her dress around her legs just as the door to the tavern swung open. "Everyone shut up!"

The music stopped, and all remaining chatter slowly drained away as the crowd turned to the door. A stout soldier was at the entrance, dressed in tarnished silver armor that smoothed the wrinkled folds of his stomach. He needed a shave, and had deep wrinkles around his mouth, but nobody could imagine him as a man that smiled too often.

"You vermin are disturbing the peace. I have a mandate here from the Judge, ordering you to leave!"

Clopin leaned back in his chair and placed his feet on the table. "I knew I should have baked cookies today!" He exclaimed with a snap of his fingers.

Carmen clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. The soldier stared at Clopin.

"Party's over."

"You're right!" Clopin smiled widely, revealing his chipped teeth. He stood up and jabbed a finger at the officer. "It ended the moment you walked in!"

"I should have each and every one of you thrown in the stocks!" The soldier hissed.

"We should have you thrown off a cliff!" A gypsy shouted. The stilled dancers laughed. The soldier was about to retort when another voice chimed in.

"Relax sir," Mirela weaved her way to the front of the crowd, head held high. "It's all in good fun."

"Ma'am you should get out of here." Carmen thanked whatever God was up there that the girls had bathed the day before and were wearing nice dresses. He didn't know that she was a gypsy. "Pickpockets, rapists, thieves! That's all these scoundrels are!" The crowd had begun to silently slink out of the doors.

Carmen ducked her head and followed Clopin as he left the tavern. Outside, it had grown cold, and the gypsies were scattering into alleys and shadows. Gilbert came out before Mirela and greeted his brother and father. The group gave a nod goodbye, and was soon gone as well.

By the time the soldier appeared, still lecturing Mirela, there wasn't a gypsy in sight. Mirela pretended to listen to his lecture patiently.

"Madeline!" Carmen called out, using the fake name they adopted when in front of public officials. Carmen was called Camille. They used the names more often than they should. "Your father is expecting you!"

Mirela said a quick goodbye and followed Carmen, but wrinkled her nose when they were out of sight. "We will have to pray for those poor people."

"I think that the soldier needs praying for," Carmen murmured. Mirela rolled her eyes, but quickly grinned.

"I saw you dancing!" She teased.

Carmen blushed. Clopin had become a very good dancer after he remembered. "He tried to teach me."

"You know," Mirela tapped her chin. "I didn't think so when I first saw him. But he is a handsome man."

Carmen smiled, happy that Mirela couldn't see her red face in the light of the rising moon. "He's too old for me."

"He couldn't be more than 20!"

Carmen raised an eyebrow. He was definitely much older than that. 30 at the youngest.

"Don't you think he's handsome?" Mirela asked as they approached the inn. Carmen didn't dare answer until they were back in their room. She quickly undressed and lay on the mat. Did she think that Clopin was attractive? At least enough to tell Mirela that she was attracted to the man with the potato nose? For all she knew, as soon as Carmen got to know him better, she would find some small trait that would quickly put him at the back of her mind.

"He's nice."

"Perfect! This works out perfectly!" Mirela smiled and began to unlace her shoes. "Did you know that they're brothers?"

"Wait a second…" Carmen trailed off, realization dawning.

"Gilbert and Michel! They're brothers, we're sisters, and it would be perfect!" She smiled at her cousin, not noticing that the girl had frozen. "I already talked to Gilbert about meeting soon."

Carmen's stomach sank to her feet. Mirlea was talking about Michel. And now she thought that Carmen like Michel. Mirela, thinking that Clopin was handsome? Carmen should have known better. But instead, Carmen would be dragged all over the city while her cousin tried to arrange a marriage.

"I'm going to take a bath," Carmen murmured as she darted from the room. Slamming the door behind her, she began to scratch frantically on the back of her hand. How could she be so stupid?


	3. Competition

Carmen woke up early the next morning. Mirela was still fast asleep, a trail of saliva dripping onto her pillow. It was mornings like these that Carmen could almost hate her cousin. Almost. Before she turned over and went back to sleep, waking up in a better mood. But this morning, Carmen silently got dressed and snuck out of the inn to find her Uncle. She would help him at the stall all day, running errands. Once she started, there would be no stopping until the shop closed at sunset.

She ran into him just as he was entering the town square.

"Wonderful! I could never turn down help from such a pretty girl," Her uncle teased with a smile, handing Carmen a large burlap sack. At the end of the week, they would be selling that as well. They arranged the stand quickly, but meticulously. Everything was in clear view, carefully concealing any stains or rips. A colorful cloth was laid over the top for shade. Carmen's uncle returned to the inn, having forgotten the box of ribbons and left her in charge.

She leaned carefully against the table, twirling a skinny twig between her fingers and stared at the scented candles her Aunt made. They were lined up on the counter, a rainbow of colors and smells. One was already lit, as a lure for customers. They sold well.

Carmen dipped the stick into the small flame, allowing the flame to seep along the wood for a moment, before blowing it out. The wind carried the smoke away into graceful ribbons. She sighed and tapped the ashes off the twig and onto the street. After a moment she did it again.

Something colorful caught her eye. She wasn't surprised to see Clopin setting up a squat cart not far from her own. Carmen shrank back into the shadows of her cart. She almost waved a hand to the friendly neighbor, but apprehension froze her in place.

Carmen's uncle returned, setting the small box on the table. "Competition?" He asked with a nod to the colorful gypsy. Who had just finished setting up an equally colorful cart. She could only shrug. "Go check it out," he ordered, setting up more candles.

"I can't," Carmen said, lighting the twig on fire.

"Put that out!" Her uncle scolded. He raised a hand before getting the better of himself. "You'll set the stand on fire."

"No I won't."

"Go."

"Of course, my lor-" It was still too soon. After a moment, she smiled brightly and ducked out of the stand. Dusting her orange blouse off, she tugged on the brown skirt determinedly. For a moment she was worried about her hair, having forgotten to put the rags in last night. But he wouldn't care how flat it was. Carmen bit her lip and thought it a shame they had never been properly kissed as she strutted to his cart.

Just as she was in view, a puppet popped onto his hand. Carmen almost turned around at the sight of it, but he had caught sight of her.

"Hello there!" He called out, smiling. Carmen blushed.

"Hello Clopin," Her heart sped up.

"Do you need something my dear?"

"I was helping my uncle," Carmen explained, a little too quickly. Of course she wasn't there just because she wanted to see him. "He wanted me to see if you were competition, but obviously not." She gestured to the puppet who was watching with avid interest. It looked just like him, complete with a proportional nose.

"But I am competition! I'll lure all your customers away with my mesmerizing tales of myst'ry and romance!" he replied, moving his little puppets arms along with his words.

Carmen giggled, covering her mouth. Her other hand hid behind her back, fingers anxiously clenched into a fist. "Cute!"

"Thank you my dear!" He grinned at the girl. "I always thought so!"

Carmen cocked an eyebrow. "I was talking about the puppet."

"I know," He agreed, but unfazed. "But it was designed after me. So, if it is cute, I am cute. Correct?"

"You could say that."

"So can everybody else."

"You are very confident, aren't you?"

"Well, why shouldn't I be?" Clopin asked, his smile fading slightly.

After a moment, Carmen shrugged. "There is of course, no other option than for you to be right."

"And of course!"

It was silent for a moment, each of them studying the other.

"You should help your father," He said, ending the silence. He spoke with finality, but gentleness.

"He's my uncle," Carmen corrected softly. She was a little upset, feeling dismissed. "Goodbye." She returned to her own stand quickly, where her uncle was too busy fiddling with an old dress of hers to notice her return. Sighing she dipped the stick into the flame again, and blew it out.


	4. Life is Hard

The next few days continued in the same manner. Waking up early, helping her Uncle sell his wares, visiting Clopin and listening to his latest tale of 'myst'ry and romance', returning at sunset and sleeping until dawn. It was early in the afternoon when Carmen walked through the town, scouring the streets for other merchants, and a familiar voice called her name.

"Carmen!" It was Mirela. And as tempted as Carmen was to duck between two houses and run away, she turned around and waited for her cousin to catch up. "Where have you been?"

"I'm helping your father."

Mirela gave the younger girl an incredulous look.

"I woke up early. What else could I have done?"

"Helped me find Gilbert?"

Carmen grimaced. "Sorry, I thought that you were asking me what I wanted."

"Where Gilbert is, Michel can't be far," She dropped her voice to a low murmur. "We could go out together, like we talked about the other night."

"Maybe I don't want to make plans," Carmen said hoarsely.

Mirela frowned. "You told me that you liked him!"

"I said he was nice, I never said I liked him."

"You said he was cute!"

"I changed my mind Mirela!" _Please don't shove words down my throat, please don't make me change my mind, please don't make me feel guilty. Please._

"Carmen!" Mirela whined. She knew her cousin too well, Carmen couldn't hold out against a guilt trip. "Please don't ruin this for me!"

"You know these things don't last!"

"You liked Pietro for years!"

"Yeah, because we stayed for years! We're leaving next week!"

Mirela changed her tactics. "What's wrong with Michel?"

"Nothing, I just…" Carmen trailed off. She couldn't confess her feelings for Clopin, whatever they might be.

Mirela grabbed her cousin by the shoulders. "Don't do this to me! I was so excited! Can't you just go along with it until we leave?"

Carmen pulled away and took several steps back. "Pretend to love someone I don't? For that long? _Estas loca__, prima_."

"Carmen!"

"What if I'm seeing someone else?"

"Who?" Mirela face was suddenly glowing, excited at the prospect of a new romance.

"There isn't anyone," Carmen said quickly. "But what if I found someone?"

"Carmen," Mirela said gently, teasingly. "It's you. You're not going to find anyone."

The blood rushed to Carmen's face. Ears burning and hands shaking, she turned around and ran. How dare she say that? Who did she think she was, to say that to her own cousin? She was only a short, ugly, obnoxious girl with big teeth and a fat face. She was only jealous because Carmen knew that she had someone else, and Mirela had no one. Gilbert was the first boy to kiss her in a year. Carmen had never been kissed sure, but it was better than being someone that gave them away for a song and still nobody wanted it.

Carmen ran until her legs shook and the corners of her vision turned black. Collapsing on the stoop of an old building in a small alley, she leaned against the door, panting. A haggard man sat in the doorway opposite her. One of his legs was missing.

"Charity, kind girl?" He asked in a rough voice. Carmen looked at him, at the wrinkles overlapping on his forehead and in the corners of his eyes. His eyes were so much older than he was. She pulled a coin from the purse inside her skirt pocket and tossed it towards him. It landed inches from the tin can resting in front of him. Carmen wrapped her arms around her knees and sighed heavily.

"Life is hard," the gypsy muttered with an aching voice. Carmen's eyes stung.

"Tell me about it," Carmen said sarcastically, smiling at him. He gave her a grin, showing all the gaps where teeth were supposed to be. She noticed something strange. He had something black on his teeth. His teeth weren't missing. Carmen looked at his stomach, with was bulged strangely for the rest of his skinny body. Carmen gasped before she could stop herself. He was a fake! He wasn't really missing a leg, or teeth!

"Oh my God!" She cried. The gypsy sprang up immediately and ran out of sight, snatching up the coin Carmen threw as he left.

She knew he was a fake. She didn't care. What Carmen did care about what that he was so sloppy. She once had to act as though she was missing a leg, a few years ago. She sat on a blanket, one leg folded underneath, instead of stuffed into her shirt. She used dyes to turn her teeth black, but it didn't fade for a few days. She laughed to herself at the memory, and returned to the town square.

Her uncle was still at the stand, conversing with an old woman who was holding one of her aunt's candles. They were both smiling and laughing. Her Uncle saw her. "This is my niece, Carmen."

"Nice to meet you," Carmen gently shook the older woman's hand and slipped inside the booth. She wanted to share her story, but knew that she couldn't.

Hours passed, Carmen lighting the stick on fire, blowing it out, her Uncle scolding her, the process repeating. It was time to pack up when Carmen's Aunt appeared.

"Come here," She gestured to her husband. They walked several feet away and talked for a moment, before hugging each other desperately. Her Aunt started to cry.

"_Carina_, close up for me," Her uncle called out.

"What's going on?" Carmen asked, walking to her _tíos_.

"Just do it. I'll be at the inn."

"Is something wrong?"

"It's none of your business! Close up!"

And they were gone. None of her business. She bit the inside of her lip, just hard enough not to draw blood. She knew it was about her cousin. Not Mirela, her brother Harman. It had to be. He was the black sheep of the family. Worse than Mirela. He stole, cursed, drank, and did everything else a man likes to do. A very bad man. She kicked the cart, making the goods clang together. Not her business? Carmen kicked it again. He was her business. Anything she loved was her business! She grabbed the side of the stall like a lifeline, so tightly her knuckles turned white. After a few minutes, she calmed down. With a sigh Carmen carefully removed all of the old clothes, folding them into the burlap sacks.

"Do you need help?"

Carmen turned around. Mirela.

"I'm sorry," She said softly, packing up some goods. She shoved them into the bags roughly. Carmen bit back a scoff. She had heard it all before. "I shouldn't have said that to you. I only think about myself."

"It's fine." It really wasn't.

"Let's forget about it."

Carmen wouldn't forget about it.

"Where's Father?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"It's none of my business," Carmen sneered at the back as she tied it up. Quick, efficient. Mirela was a little clumsier. They slowly made their way back to the inn. Mirela was carrying several of the smaller bags. Carmen the largest, with the box of ribbons balanced on top.

"I'll put this away, and come back to help-" Carmen was cut off.

"No need! I'll help!" Carmen turned around. Clopin was there, picking up a bag that Mirela dropped and smiling that beautiful smile.

"Thank you!" Mirela smiled at him. He wasn't looking at her though, he was looking at Carmen. She cursed under her breath.

"What's wrong Carmen?" He asked, seemingly innocent. She composed herself quickly, smiling at him as well, but held her tongue.

"It's probably my brother," Mirela said. "He doesn't make very good decisions. It hurts the family a lot." Carmen glared at her. Mirela never cared what her brother did as long as he brought her some sort of shiny bauble whenever he visited.

"If you'd permit me to ask, what is he doing?"

"Well…" Mirela started.

"Thieving, drinking, everyone," Carmen interrupted. "He's my closest family."

She glanced coolly at her cousin, whose jaw dropped. Mirela glanced at Clopin, flushing, before sweeping inside the inn. She returned and grabbed hold of the other bags quickly, before rushing back inside. Clopin smiled at Carmen. What was so funny? She had just told the horrible history of her family, insulted her cousin and he was smiling at her, almost proud.

"I'm guessing that's not the whole story?" He smiled even wider, if possible.

"No," Carmen agreed curtly.

"You can tell me anything, Carmen. Yell, scream, anything that's necessary."

"It's not."

"Are you sure about that?"

Carmen smiled softly. "Maybe later."

"I'm warning you, I'm not very patient."

Carmen backed up to the door, still holding the large sack. She looked down and pushed it in, ready to go inside.

"Not even a good night kiss?" He asked, a little annoyed.

Carmen looked up. "Goodbye." The door closed before she could see his reaction. She didn't really care at the moment if he was angry, or disappointed, or even smiling like before. She knew that she would care later, but not now. Carmen just wanted to sleep until everything was right in the world again.

Hurrying up the stairs, Carmen ran into her Aunt just as she was going into her room.

"What's going on?"

Her Aunt gave a tired smile. "Harman is coming home tomorrow. For good."

"That's wonderful!" Carmen knew he wouldn't, no matter how wonderful it would be.

"As soon as he gets released from jail-"

"Jail!" Amazingly, her cousin had never been arrested before. At least, as far as Carmen knew. Her Aunt quickly explained how Harman was lucky not to be hung after fighting a soldier. Carmen nodded stiffly and handed over the burlap sack. Her Aunt hugged Carmen quickly, and went into her own room.

Carmen stood there for a moment. It just didn't seem true. Harman was in jail. It couldn't be. But it was. She stumbled to her own room, but heard hushed voices through the thin door. Carmen carefully pressed her ear to the door.

"She said that to you?" Uncle asked, shocked.

Carmen's stomach sunk.

"Yeah," Mirela managed to squeak around her silent sobs. Carmen rolled her eyes as her fists clenched. Her nails bit into the soft skin on her palm.

"I'll talk to her."

_God help me if he does._ Carmen quickly stormed out of the inn, her fists clenched even tighter. After a moment, she crossed her arms, letting the nails tear there instead. Her footsteps were heavy, pounding down the street as she wandered to the most edge of the city. Anger clouded her mind. Every time she thought of her cousins or her _tíos_, she could feel her heart pounding in her ears. A stranger passed her in the street, giving her a worried look as a trickle of blood ran down her arm. She sneered at him, watching as he scurried away.

After a moment of silence, hot tears pushed at the corner of her eyes. She just drove everyone away. She ruined everything. She couldn't tell the truth to her cousin. She couldn't even dance. Carmen spotted a graveyard and darted through the old wrought iron fence.


	5. Hide Away

Carmen sat under a rotting tree and curled into a ball, crying. She wanted to scream, but held it down and bottled it up. After a few moments, she took a long deep breath and wiped the tears off her face. Everything was fine. Nothing had actually happened; it was just her emotions getting the better of her.

Carmen gnawed on her fingernail, wondering what to do now. It was so late that she didn't feel safe going home, but she couldn't spend the night in the graveyard. Her stomach was twisting, growing hotter.

"You shouldn't bite your nails. It's a bad habit for such a pretty girl."

Carmen jumped, bile rising in her throat. It burned as she swallowed it, but she quickly smiled. She needed to. It was Clopin.

"Do you often spend your nights in the local graveyard?" He asked with a smirk, sitting on the gravestone across form her. He was wearing an outfit that was much less colorful, much darker than what she had seen him in earlier.

"No, you?" Carmen asked, noticing the perfect perch he had on the marble seat.

Clopin laughed. "You caught me."

"Now I know where to find you," She smirked. The smile faded from his face for a second, before he cocked an eyebrow and smiled again. She noticed the teeth on either side of his mouth that were slightly chipped away, leaving a small gap on either side. Carmen liked it, it gave him character. A broken nose didn't give you character.

"Are you okay?" Clopin asked, a gloved hand wiping away a tear she had missed. Acting as if he had only just noticed that Carmen was crying. Well played, but she saw right though him. For once.

"I'm fine."

"Don't try to hide from me!"

"I'm not!" She smiled innocently.

"Maybe you are."

"Maybe it's none of your business!" Carmen snapped, regretting it the moment she saw his smile fade. He looked extremely taken aback. "I'm sorry."

"What was that?" His legs managed to latch onto the tombstone while his upper body stretched towards her. One hand was cupped around his ear while the other was held out for balance.

Carmen grumbled. "I'm SORRY."

"Can you repeat that?"

Carmen smiled at his crazy antics.

"There you are!" He cried, leaping off the tombstone. Clopin grabbed Carmen's hand and fell to one knee, pressing a gentle kiss on her knuckles. "I was hoping I could see that beautiful smile."

"Can you forgive me?"

Clopin pretended to think. "For being rude, yes. For putting a wall between us, no."

Carmen blushed. She couldn't hide anything from him. As if she had known him for years already. "I didn't mean to."

"Can you take it down?" Clopin took hold of her hands and pulled Carmen to her feet.

"Wait and see."

"I'm not very patient."

"Then you'll never know."

Clopin ruffled the hair on the top of Carmen's head and she noticed that he wasn't as tall as she first thought. The top of her head only came to his shoulder. "Le's take a walk."

Carmen nodded at him, staring at his smile. You had to have a very certain type of mouth to kiss him, with his being so wide. Her own lips were big, but not wide. Their lips were perfect for each other. She bit her mouth as they left the graveyard.

What a shame her lips hadn't kissed his lips.


	6. So Young

Their walk was silent, but filled with nudges and smiles. It led them back to the tavern, which was much less crowded than the night before. He paid for dinner, even though Carmen argued the whole way through. He was more stubborn than she was.

Over dinner, Carmen told him everything. Well, almost. She started from the point where she first joined her Aunt and the rest of the family in the caravan they were traveling with at the time. To when Harman started to grow up and break the rules. To when Mirela started to ignore her and pay more attention to boys. To when she stormed out of the inn only an hour ago. He was impressed that her family was able to act the part of a non-gypsy so well. Carmen explained that it was mostly due to the fact that hers was a family of Spaniards who often bathed.

Clopin told some of his own history in trade, but there were noticeable gaps in the story. Anything regarding his own family or home was excluded. He bandaged her arms up as he talked, using an old handkerchief of Carmen's.

She could only gape when he finished his story. "That's horrible!"

"I thought it was a pretty good story."

"Why are the guards so awful?"

"Judge Claude Frollo."

"Who is he?"

"The ugliest man in all of Paris. He would be the King of Fools every year if he ever dared to compete. He's a very religious man, he squashes out anything that he doesn't believe to be right," Clopin explained, sipping his wine as he leaned back comfortably in the rickety chair.

"At least he believes," Carmen murmured, nudging the peas on her plate into a wide smile. Blushing, she rearranged them quickly.

"I doubt the Lord approves of him."

"Neither do I. But if he believes that he will die serving God, and having lived a life where he served God, then no one else but God can judge him."

"He doesn't deserve heaven."

"Neither do you," Carmen smirked.

"More than him!"

"All sins are equal in the eyes of God."

Clopin scoffed.

"Don't believe me?" Carmen asked sarcastically.

"Execution is punishment for those that break the law. What I do is no different."

"Yes it is!"

"Even if they murdered someone?"

"God gave us life," Carmen argued hotly, peas forgotten. "And only God should have the power to take it away."

"God uses his power to make people kill one another when he wants them to die!" Clopin shot back. "Wars, hanging, all of them!"

"Don't say that! I hate public hangings! It's vulgar and disgusting! If they insist on killing people, why not do it behind stone walls?" She asked, remembering the hanging she had witnessed only days ago.

"Come now, people exaggerate hangings," He took another sip of his wine, pensive. "It's not such a tragic death. Compared to being burned alive that is."

"Burned alive?"

"You think that they always grant us a quick death?" He laughed at the puzzled expression in Carmen's eyes. Her face went hot. "You innocent child! You shouldn't spend too much time with old men like me! Being exposed to such evils!"

"How old do you think I am?" Carmen asked, insulted.

After a few moments, "Nineteen?"

She shook her head. "I'm only seventeen."

"A full grown woman!" Clopin smiled. "You'd make an amusing wife!"

"I'd like to see you tell that to my uncle!"

He laughed melodically. It was so high pitched, and yet it came completely from his diaphragm, hearty and deep. Carmen almost sighed. "Speaking of that, we should get you home. I'll walk you back."

"Can't I stay with you?" Carmen frowned. "I can be your amusing wife!"

"I'd like to hear you say that to your uncle."

"Fine, home it is." He stood up elegantly, holding a hand out to help Carmen out of her seat. "You're too polite."

He kissed her hand again, laughing his perfect laugh. "Why, of course!"

They talked about everything, anything, as he walked her back to the inn. She wanted to stay with him. She really did. Clopin was funny, and she was always laughing with him. They fed off of each other's emotions so well. Carmen arrived at the inn all too soon and sighed deeply. "I'm in trouble."

"But I know that you will pull through with great class, fair Carmen," he teased, ruffling her black hair again.

"That's what they all say."

He laughed again.

She loved it.

"Goodnight."

"Thank you. Goodnight," Carmen smiled. She turned around to go inside when Clopin grabbed her hand.

"I'll be at my caravan tomorrow if you haven't anything to do."

Carmen blushed. It felt as though he was courting her. She had seen him for the last three days, but this was different. This was an invitation. "I would love to. But I can't. I hurt Mirela earlier, and I need to make it up to her. So she wants me to go out with her, Gilbert and Michel."

Clopin stared at Carmen, his face blank. If she wasn't so young, she would have sworn that he was disappointed in her. "Michel's a good boy. Nice and mature. An acrobat as well as a musician. He'll try to perform if there aren't too many guards," Clopin stuffed his hands into his pockets, looking down the street.

"If only if only," Carmen smiled sadly. "Goodnight."

Clopin laughed. Carmen almost felt insulted, as if he was laughing at her, but she could only smile wider. Her heart ached as it fluttered.

"Sweet dreams."

Carmen floated into the inn, feeling like a giddy teenage girl with the giddy smile on her giddy face. She changed into her shift, carefully put the rags in her hair, and unwrapped the bandages. She was going to do everything she could to see Clopin the next day.


	7. A Puppet Show

In the morning, Carmen was the last one up. Mirela was just slipping into her shoes. She could hear her Aunt and Uncle's muffled screaming through the wall.

"Where were you last night?" Mirela asked.

Carmen was shocked.

Her guilt doubled.

"I ate dinner with Clopin."

"Who?"

A small flare of anger.

"Michel's friend."

Mirela nodded absently.

"Let's find them. Clopin said they would probably do acrobatics today," Carmen said casually, stepping into a red dress. She hoped Mirela didn't see her shaking hands. "I'm sorry about last night."

Mirela ran to Carmen, and hugged her tightly. "Don't worry about it."

That was strange.

"Is something wrong? You usually don't forgive me so easily."

"I was thinking a lot last night. I've said a lot of things recently that could've made you mad, and you just let it go. So I can't be mad at you for getting angry."

"That's really mature," Carmen smiled thinly at her cousin.

"I know!"

Carmen sat silently though the "Be kind to family!" scolding with her uncle. She knew that is was hard to raise a child that wasn't yours. Especially when you're supposed to be the surrogate father. But Carmen was just glad that he hadn't seen how emotional she had become last night. Acting like that would have earned her a beating. Now that she calmed down, Carmen knew that she was just being dramatic.

The next morning, the cousins quickly left the inn and wandered through the town in search of Gilbert or Michel. Carmen spotted Clopin's cart, dressed in vibrant swaths of cloth.

"Let's watch!"

Mirela bit her lip. "A puppet show?"

Carmen stopped walking and stared at the cart. He was in the middle of a story, switching puppets so quickly her head spun. The children stood in awe, frozen in place. She was frozen as well, even if she couldn't hear him. Clopin eyed her for a moment, letting her know that he knew she was there.

Mirela started to inspect her nails.

"Be nice!" Carmen whispered, tempted to elbow her cousin.

She rolled her eyes.

The children laughed, and Clopin gently shooed them away. He smiled at Carmen and waved her over. "Did you enjoy the story?"

"I was too far away to hear," Carmen bowed her head. "But the children seemed very entertained. You're very good at this."

He laughed and Carmen blushed a little.

"He's so cute!" Mirela pointed at Clopin's puppet.

"Thank you!" Clopin held the puppet next to his face. "I think he looks like me."

"No, the puppet's much cuter," Carmen teased, laughing at his crestfallen face.

"I would love a puppet like that!" Mirela chimed. Carmen could only roll her eyes. Mirela would take it everywhere for all of two weeks, then forget about it completely.

"What would you have picked?" Clopin asked Carmen.

"I'm sorry?"

"The lion or the princess?"

She laughed a little. He changed subjects so quickly she could barely keep up. But she knew what story he was talking about. "The princess."

"But then you couldn't have him."

"I wouldn't want him to die," Carmen said very seriously. After a moment she smiled. "After all, just because he is married doesn't mean that he has to be faithful to a woman he doesn't love. If he loved me, he would do anything to be with me."

Clopin smiled at her, proud.

"Carmen!" Mirela grabbed her arm. The younger girl turned around and saw Gilbert, Michel and a few of their friends walking by. Mirela started to drag her away.

Carmen shrugged at Clopin, who smiled and yelled, "Behave!" But he looked a little disappointed. Carmen's face mirrored his. She would much rather spend the day with Clopin than chase after some boy that she didn't like and didn't want to like her. Mirela dragged Carmen along, muttering under her breath about playing governess. Carmen sighed. Everyone has to make money somehow.

Mirela walked a little slower, as if she was passing by chance. The group had just started to warm up, Michel doing a handstand and Gilbert lightly strumming his guitar. Michel almost fell over when he spotted the girls. Carmen held back a giggle.

"Mira!" Gilbert exclaimed. He ran over, but hesitated, unsure of what to do. Mirela held out a hand, and he pulled her into a quick hug. "It's great to see you again."

'Mira' covered her face a little, blushing. Carmen almost laughed at them, but it would've been rude. Michel, who seemed to have the best manners, bowed a little to her, and straightened himself up, he pointed to the three unknown gypsies. One was young, ten or so, the other older and overweight. The third was familiar-it took Carmen a moment to recognize him. He was the gypsy from when they first met them that went home instead of joining them at the tavern. He frowned at Carmen instantly, and she returned the look, almost scowling. Michel explained that the young one was Samuel, the fat one Simon, and the frowning one Solomon.

Samuel was perched on the high wall, watching something on the other side. Simon played a beautiful tune on his flute. "It's nice to meet you, I'm Carmen," She introduced herself, looking at Solomon. The gypsy looked the other way.

"Would you like to see us perform?" Gilbert asked.

"I would love to!" Mirela said, smiling. She was so happy. Carmen felt a pang of jealousy. There was no question about it: he was in love with her.

Solomon sidled into place beside Michel. Samuel kept his perch on the wall, not daring to take his eyes off of whatever he was watching. The rest started to play a song. Michel and Solomon started a routine, fairly simple but it grew more complicated with back flips and cartwheels. Carmen could have even sworn Solomon was smiling. And every move was perfectly synchronized with the song.

It was exhilarating

She was so absorbed in the show Carmen almost screamed when Samuel shrieked, "THEY'RE COMING!"

The group scattered, each taking refuge in different directions. Melting into shadows, ducking behind barrels, or even walking away. Gilbert had snatched Mirela, tucking her away before Carmen could see.

She didn't know what was happening.

Who was coming?

What was coming?

What was she supposed to do?

Carmen fell against the wall of the alley, slumping in the street. She started to rub her ankle, looking up and down the alley for who ever was coming. The gleam of silver caught her eye as two soldiers rounded the corner, looking around cautiously. One nodded at Carmen and walked off. She stayed there until they were out of sight.

The gypsies slowly returned to the alley, carefully resuming their places. Carmen glanced at Michel, who sighed.

"That was a little embarrassing."

"At least you hid."

"You didn't need to."

"Too bad they don't see what I see," Carmen glanced down the street, watching the soldiers chatting with the baker.

"You're smart for your age," He smiled, still embarrassed.

"Thanks."

"My father likes you. He said you have something that most people don't. You should have heard him and Clopin going on and on about you," Michel grinned.

"What did they say?" Carmen was almost blushing.

"That you have a beautiful smile."

"Of course they did," Carmen sighed.

She was swooning on the inside.

"They did! Father said, 'she has a beautiful smile' and then Clopin said, 'I know, didn't she?'" Michel told her, imitating their voices perfectly.

"I'm flattered."

"It's true though."

Carmen looked at him, but he was now staring at his feet. She looked at the band playing, and noticed Solomon staring at her, his face blank. His chest filled with air, and he snorted, looking away.

"He's not a very friendly person," Michel noted their staring contest. "Give him time."

"Sure, because I've got nothing but time," Carmen smirked. She bit her lip.

Clopin thought her smile was beautiful.


	8. For the Kids

Carmen laughed at Michel, who stuck his tongue out at her. They had been talking for almost an hour, staying behind as the troupe moved on. Michel was very funny, in a sort of sweet and awkward way.

"Hey, I can't help it!" Michel told her. "If you lived with Clopin Trouillfou you would be just as crazy as I am."

"You live with him?" Carmen asked. Gilbert and Paul must live with him too.

Michel stumbled over his words, trying to explain. Carmen cocked an eyebrow.

"Where?" She had heard stories about the Parisian gypsies, who were all once a part of the same caravan. They were now hidden in some remote part of Paris, hundreds of them, safe from the police, from the church.

"You ask too many questions."

Carmen frowned, but knew better than to ask again. So she shrugged, pretending not to care and steered the conversation in a different direction. "Clopin is really interesting."

"I love his shows. He's such a good storyteller," Michel propped his head on his knees.

"I heard him this morning. It's amazing what he does, I don't know if I could spend that much time with children," Carmen smiled. "But he has to make a living somehow, right?"

"He doesn't get paid for that you know," Michel said.

"He doesn't?"

"He just likes it."

"Alright, then how does he earn a living?"

"He performs sometimes. He's an amazing acrobat, taught me everything I know. Of course, he kept the best tricks to himself. He's an amazing singer as well," Michel sighed. "I wish I could sing like that."

She wanted to hear him sing.

"I should probably go find my cousin," Carmen bit the inside of her cheek.

Michel blushed, and helped Carmen to her feet. He waved at her weakly as she walked down the street. She honestly didn't care where Mirela was. Mirela would find her way home eventually. So Carmen returned to the town square, and made her way to Clopin. He was just packing in his puppet stand when she arrived.

"Do you need any help?"

Clopin smiled at her, but waved his hand. "No, no! I have years of experience! Besides, your pretty little hands might get dirty."

"Years?" Carmen asked. "How do you get anything else done?"

"Carmen darling, don't worry about me!" He stopped what he was doing to look at her. "I can get by!"

Her mouth fell open.

Clopin chuckled and grabbed her hand in his gloved ones. "I read you like a book." Carmen snatched her hand away, blushing.

Her hand was tingling.

"It's cute," Clopin shrugged, turning back to his cart. "And it's one of the things I love about children. They wear their hearts on their sleeve. All of them are so innocent with their questions, their desire to know more! They trust that every story I tell is true. And watching their eyes grow bigger and bigger at the climax of my story is so entertaining! That's what I like about you." He looked at Carmen, his large hands still at work.

"That my eyes get big?"

He laughed, shaking his head. "They're so big! It's simply irresistible!"

"Why thank...you..." Carmen's eyes drifted upwards toward the cathedral, with its high towers and the two beautifully carved rows of statues. Up on a pillar, high in the bell tower, something was climbing, almost slithering, up a pillar. She craned her neck to get a better look. "What is that?"

"That, my dear, is the Bell Ringer of Notre Dame," Clopin announced, ruffling her hair. She could feel his touch long after he stopped.

"The Bell Ringer," She said softly.

"He's said to be hideous. A demon in the flesh," Clopin sighed. "I could tell you the story…"

"But?"

"But I can't tell stories on an empty stomach!"

"Are you trying to ask me to dinner, or trick me into it?" Carmen teased.

"You caught me! Now I must confess," Clopin fell on one knee and took hold of Carmen's hand. "I've fallen in love with your company!"

"But I already owe you one dinner. So I couldn't go unless," Carmen smiled down at the remarkable gypsy. "You let me pay tonight."

"You're a devil." Clopin teased, smiling.

"I thought I was the innocent child?" Carmen smirked.

"Only on the outside, apparently. Meet me at the tavern after sunset," He kissed her hand, and without waiting for a response, grabbed his cart and wheeled it away.

Carmen wanted to scream for him to wait. To stay all day, all night! But she couldn't. She could only hold the hand he clutched onto. It was worse than Pietro from all those years ago. Carmen could barely remember his face anymore. Clopin Trouillfou had stolen her heart.


	9. Starting Rumors

**A/N Guys, I have the next several chapters written out. It's just a matter of when I can update. This also means that I made the decision when the best time would be for chapter breaks. They will get longer eventually! Promise!  
And lots of love for all my reviewers! I update more often the more reviews I get! So please, drop a note.**

Carmen sighed and wandered down the street, already anxiously waiting for sunset. When she rounded the corner, Carmen almost fell to her knees laughing. But she was so surprised that she couldn't move until they noticed her. Gilbert and Mirela had found a half-shadowed corner by the bridge, and were kissing.

When Mirela spotted her cousin, she ripped away from her partner in crime, grinning from ear to ear, and straightened out her skirt. Carmen rolled her eyes as Gilbert shoved his hands into his pockets, blushing.

Guilty as charged.

"Carmen! Where were you?" Mirela asked.

"Don't worry," Carmen smirked. "I've been acting like a lady with proper upbringing."

Mirela sneered at her cousin, but quickly smiled and meekly waved at Gilbert. He waved back and walked away briskly, avoiding eye contact with Carmen.

Carmen sighed. How could she fall in love with the man too old for Mirela, who had fallen in love with a man that was the perfect age for her? But she smiled. There had been too much fighting lately. "You two fit."

Mirela squealed, watching Gilbert walk away, "You think so?"

"Yeah," Carmen sighed, almost wistfully.

Mirela smiled at Carmen, who felt a flare of jealousy. Wasn't falling in love supposed to take time? "So, what were you really doing?"

"I looked for you a bit," Carmen said pointedly. "Then I talked to Clopin a bit. And then I found you."

"Clopin? Again?"

"Yes, again."

"He's twice your age," Mirela said cynically.

"Does it make a difference?"

"Get your head out of the clouds," Mirela scolded. "You keep spending your time with older men, and people are going to start rumors."

"The people we're saying goodbye to next week? None of that matters to me."

"Yes it does."

"Then why am I meeting him for dinner?"

"You're what?"

"I am eating dinner with Clopin," Carmen enunciated every syllable carefully and slowly. How could her cousin be so insensitive?

"Why not Michel? He is nice and handsome and _your age_."

"He's twenty!"

"That's three years!"

"If I loved them it wouldn't matter if it's three years or thirteen! But I don't!" Carmen shouted, exasperated. Her face flushed at the weight of her words.

"You really like him." Mirela looked shocked.

"I'm going home," Carmen pushed by her cousin and started to walk away.

"And so am I." Mirela chased her cousin all the way to the inn and into their room. Carmen curled up on her mat, and Mirela had the nerve to sit at her feet. "Carmen, just listen to me. I'm sorry, but it's just- I just think it's…sick. Please… forgive me."

She gently placed her hand on Carmen shoulder, who shook her off and sat up. "Don't I always?"

"I'm trying to be nice!"

"It needs some work," Carmen shot. Mirela sat on her bed, huffing in frustration.

Carmen wanted to hit her.

She should have hit her.

"Could Gilbert and I join you at dinner?" Mirela asked after a moment. Carmen looked in shock at her cousin, surprised by the kindness in her voice.

"I don't know," Carmen said hesitantly, not wanting to upset her cousin further. "I don't know what Clopin would think. I'm not sure."

"What if we meet you there?"

"Mirela, I don't know," Carmen sighed. "Let me do this on my own tonight. If things go alright, you can come next time, okay?"

"Fine," Mirela stood up and walked to the door. "I'll go find Gilbert, and we'll have dinner on our own!"

Carmen curled on her side, hugging her pillow tightly. She felt like a child. A stupid innocent child with big eyes that wears her heart on her sleeve. And the stupid child cried a silent cry where the tears fall one at a time and the chest is so tight that the sobs can't break free.

Carmen buried her face in her hands, wishing Clopin's hands were there to hold hers.


	10. Trapped Between

Carmen paused while combing out her hair and glanced into the mirror. Her curls had fallen out, leaving her hair tangled but straight. Her brown eyes, flecked with gold, shone in the light of the setting sun. She was grateful for her eyes and her lips, because those were the only things she felt confident in. She didn't have a voluptuous chest, or lean body, or small butt. Her wipe hips accentuated a thin waist, glazed over with a layer of fat.

And after noticing that Clopin only wore the brightest of colors, Carmen had borrowed Mirela's bright yellow dress, trimmed in white lace. It was the brightest dress they had.

Stuffing her hand purse into a pocket on the dress, Carmen told her Aunt she was going out for dinner. She didn't say where, or with whom, but her Aunt didn't seem to care very much anyways. She never had.

Carmen had just closed the door to the inn behind her where she heard a commotion down the street. Ducking behind a corner, Carmen saw the beggar man from the other day. His leg was still 'missing' as well as his arm, but he had taken the paint off his teeth.

He held out a shaky hand to the soldier in front of him. "Charity, good soul?"

"Charity?" The soldier cackled. "You're a fake!" He tore the gypsy's shirt, revealing an arm folded across his stomach, and yanked him to his feet. The missing leg unfolded and flopped into view.

'Charity, good soul?" He asked again, his voice soft.

The soldier threw the gypsy on the street and pulled out a length of rope. Another soldier on horseback rode by Carmen. His armor was bright and polished silver, and black hair poked out from under his helmet. "Stop! My men are not to act like this!"

"Captain, he's a fake!" The soldier started. "He was pretending that his leg was missing!"

"There are more important matters than a fake beggar," The Captain reasoned.

"Captain, arrest him!" A voice rang out. There was definitely power in his voice, with anger and age. Carmen turned around to run. But the man was behind her, riding a massive black stallion. His face was pale, thin and wrinkled. Dark circles were under is cold, dark eyes. He ignored Carmen completely; his attention was so focused on the gypsy.

"Minister Frollo!" The soldier straightened up immediately, and nodded to Frollo. He then bound the gypsy's arms and hauled him out of sight.

"Sir, I don't think that-"

"Let me make it clear to you," Frollo snapped. "If you see a gypsy with money or begging for it, you arrest them on the spot. Do you understand?"

The Captain had a resigned look on his face as he nodded, pulling his horse away. Carmen wanted to speak up, but was terrified of the possibility that he would discover she was a gypsy. Gulping, she turned around and took another route to the tavern. She knew that if the gypsy had to disguise himself as a lame man in order to earn money, he surely needed it. Carmen wanted to see Clopin. She needed to see him.

"Papa?" A girl whispered. Carmen stopped and looked behind her, spotting a girl her age, also a gypsy. She was small, her hair a golden brown, eyes a bright blue. She seemed lost. Or maybe she was looking for someone that was lost.

"Are you alright?" Carmen asked.

"I didn't steal anything!" The girl said submissively, sinking into the shadows.

"I didn't say you did," Carmen said gently.

"I'm looking for my Papa," The girl said after a moment, glancing around.

"Well," Carmen took a few careful steps forward. "What does he look like?"

The girl bit her lip. "He's missing an arm and a leg."

Carmen bit her own lip, holding back a gasp. But the girl noticed anyways.

"What?"

"I'm so sorry!" Carmen cried, her hands flying to her mouth. The girl began to cry, muttering in a language Carmen didn't understand. Guilt pooled in her stomach. "He was just arrested. They shouldn't have done it."

The girl was silent for another moment, but collected herself. She seemed to have no idea what to do next.

"I'm having dinner with a friend at the tavern nearby," Carmen started, her heart going out to the girl that lost her father. "I would be delighted if you came."

The girl smiled and nodded. They walked to the tavern, getting to know one another. The girls name was Dena, and she was a storyteller. As they walked into the tavern, Clopin spotted the two of them as they entered, frowning.

"You didn't tell me your friend was Clopin!" Dena whispered, shocked.

"You know him?"

"Who doesn't?"

Carmen shrugged. She couldn't be expected to know everything so soon.

"Dena! How are you?" Clopin asked with a very familiar tone. Carmen sat beside Clopin as Dena pulled up another chair.

"Papa was arrested," She whispered, her thin lips barely moving.

Clopin's eyes gleamed in the fire light. He had the most beautiful dark brown eyes, and you could barely tell where the iris ended and his pupil began. "Not Matias!"

Dena's shoulders sagged.

"How did you two meet?"

"We found each other," Carmen explained. "On my way over."

"I'll just get a drink," Dena excused herself, going to the counter.

Carmen turned to Clopin. "I'm sorry. I just couldn't leave her there. She was so lost, and it was so unfair! If her father was so desperate for money that he had to play the part of an injured man, he had enough on his plate already! And I can't believe-"

Dena came back and sat down.

"Can't believe what?" Clopin asked, smirking.

Carmen narrowed her eyes at him, and looked down at the table. "How ugly Frollo is."

Dena laughed.

But so did Clopin.

"The end all King of Fools!" Dena chuckled, sipping on her mug.

Carmen laughed as well, before looking at Clopin. "But, you promised to tell me the story of the bell ringer. Remember?" She looked right into his eyes, entranced by the warm glow that made her want to melt.

"Yes, yes, of course," Clopin cleared his throat, repositioning himself in the chair. "Just over twenty years ago, dark was the night where our tale-"

"Carmen!" Mirela's voice rang out over the crowd. She had a blushing Gilbert behind her. "I didn't know you were here!"

Carmen flushed and sank down in her seat. "I told her not to come," She hissed under her breath. Her heart was breaking. Sure, Dena would have left soon enough, but she couldn't escape from Mirela.

"Can we eat with you?" Mirela asked. And another man stepped into the tavern.

Michel.

Mirela how dare you.

Clopin was frowning again. Carmen couldn't help loving his frown as much as his smile, the way his brow furrowed as his mouth pulled at all the skin on his face. He didn't care if the whole world knew he was upset, he would just throw it in their face with more enthusiasm. But he shrugged.

"Let's move to a bigger table."

After rearranging themselves at a long table near the back, right next to an open window and nothing like the cozy chairs by the fireplace, everyone started talking at once. Carmen somehow found herself trapped between Clopin and Michel.

This was going to be fun.

"Dena, how did you meet Carmen?" Gilbert asked with a warm smile.

Carmen cocked an eyebrow. "Does everyone know each other?"

"We're all like family." Dena explained.

"You all live together?" Carmen asked.

Everyone not so discreetly looked to Clopin, who took a sip of his wine. Carmen looked to Mirela, who was busy staring at Gilbert, who for the first time all night, wasn't looking at her.

"Carmen, why don't we get some food for everybody?" Michel said, clearing his throat. Carmen tried to resist, but Clopin waved her off. So she followed Michel to the counter. "You ask too many questions."

"I noticed."

Dinner flew by, with everyone eventually relaxing, joking and swapping stories. The group was just leaving the tavern when their luck ran out.

A guard was standing just outside the tavern door, just waiting for trouble. Clopin tried to lead the others away, but it didn't work. "Scoundrels!" The soldier hissed. "Always slithering in and out of these decrepit taverns!"

"Excuse me?" Mirela turned around, cocking her hip.

"These people will rob you blind!" The soldier explained.

"Madeline," Carmen grabbed onto her cousins elbow. "It's not worth it. Let's just go home."

"Leave me alone, Camille!" She shook Carmen off. "They've done nothing wrong!"

"They do nothing right!" The soldier argued.

"You aren't right!"

The soldier grabbed Mirela by the wrist and everyone grew tense. "I'd leave before you get your miserable friends thrown in jail!"

"I would leave if you let go of me!" Mirela shrieked. Carmen grabbed onto her cousins wrist again, and started to pull the girl away.

"Sir, I promise you that my sister will be more careful in the future, just please let her go!" Carmen begged. Mirela shrieked again, but in pain as the soldier tightened his grip. In retaliation, she dug her nails into the skin just beneath his fingernails. He yelled and let pulled his hand away.

Everyone ran.

Carmen fastest of all.

She ducked into a small alley, Mirela right behind her, when she lost her balance. Mirela slammed into her back and both hit the stone wall before crumpling on the street. It took Carmen a moment to open her eyes, but she wished that she didn't.

The soldier was standing over the two girls, staring at Mirela, who had almost passed out. He yanked her up and began to tie her wrists behind her back.

"No," Carmen murmured hoarsely, reaching a hand out.

The soldier glared at the young woman. "She's going to learn the hard way, and I suggest you don't follow her."

As he dragged her off, Carmen pulled herself to her knees and cried. She had no idea where her cousin was going, what they would do to her.

If she would ever see Mirela again.

"They'll put her in the stocks."

Carmen stifled a sob and turned around. She wanted it to be Clopin, but Michel was standing behind her. He gently pulled the crying girl to her feet and wiped the tears off her face. "How long?"

"Only a day or two."

Carmen bit her lip, trying not to cry again. Michel pulled Carmen into a tight hug and she melted into the familiarity. His eyes were almost identical to Clopin's. But she didn't love his eyes. Carmen loved Clopin's eyes.

And even though it went against everything that she had ever been taught, everything she once believed in, she loved Clopin.

Merde.


	11. Harman's Home

Carmen's uncle almost cried when she told him. Her Aunt did. So did Carmen. The next morning, Carmen stopped by the stocks as she was running errands for her Uncle. Mirela looked so pitiful, almost broken. There were purple bruises forming on her arms, and the back of her dress was torn open, the signs of a whipping bleeding through. But she still held onto that righteous beauty, shining in the early sun as she dutifully served her time.

As Carmen was walking back to the inn, she ran into a rough yellow shirt.

"I'm sorry!" She gasped, backing up, but a pair of arms wrapped tightly around her and she was enveloped in the scent of smoke and tree bark. She knew that smell. "Harman!"

Her cousin drew back to get a better look. Harman's square chin was finally growing a small beard, which was just as curly as his hair. He towered over Carmen, but was bulkier than Clopin. "Amazing what time can do!"

"You finally have the beard you used to pray for!" Carmen smiled, fingering the stubble.

He chuckled. "It grows so slowly! Too bad I'm not you; I'd have a beard in three days!"

Carmen tried to glare at him.

But she couldn't.

"What happened to Mirela?"

"It's… it's a long story."

Harman pulled Carmen to his side as they walked. "Let's find Mother. I want to say hi."

"So they put her in the stocks?" Harman exclaimed. The two of them were resting in the shade of a florists shop, sitting on the stoop. Carmen was twirling a discarded flower bud between her fingertips.

"If they knew she was a gypsy, it would be much worse," Carmen explained. "These people just can't see."

Harman sighed. "At least she's not in jail."

"Only the crazy ones go to jail," Carmen quipped, a sparkle in her eyes. "I'd hate it if Mirela got that kind of a reputation."

He laughed. "I know, I'm stupid."

"No you're not," Carmen murmured. "You just do stupid things."

"I know."

Carmen stared at her cousin. So much more had changed in the last year than just a beard. He seemed so much older. So tired. He had grown up so much.

"I love you anyway, idiot," Carmen laughed.

"You too," Harman smirked. "I just hope you don't turn out stupid like the rest of us."

"I won't."

"Or ignorant."

"I'll do my best."

"Just don't be like me or Mirela," he explained.

"Mirela was brave!"

"And ignorant! And selfish!" Harman argued. "She could have gotten a lot more people in trouble that just herself. Because she wasn't thinking."

He was right.

"Why don't we keep walking?" Carmen pulled her cousin off the stoop. The two walked towards the bakers to get a snack.

"Carmen!"

What was wrong now?

Clopin rounded the corner, his skinny legs easily propelling him around the other passersby's and closer to her. He pulled her into a tight hug. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Carmen assured him, her arms resting easily around his waist. Clopin eyed Harman, his black eyes dancing.

"Who's this?"

"Oh! This is Harman, my cousin," She pulled her cousin closer. "Harman, this is Clopin Trouillefou, a new friend of mine."

"Nice to meet you," Clopin said, draping his arms over Carmen's shoulders.

"Get off of me!" Carmen laughed. But her fingers lingered a second longer than necessary on Clopin's arm. He shot her a warm look.

"Same here," Harman gave a charming smile and held out a hand. Clopin shook with his own wide grin. "Are you a friend of Carmen's?"

"Yes," Clopin let go of Carmen, propping his arm on her shoulder. She squirmed for a moment, before wrapping an arm around his waist in weak retaliation.

"Anyone who can handle her must be one hell of a character," Harman grinned at Carmen, daring her to rise to the occasion.

"That's nothing compared to your friends," Carmen smirked.

"Watch it Cara, or your face might stay that way," He shot back. "Not that it could get any uglier though."

"Well… you smell funny."

"You'll never beat me."

"Block of cheese."

Clopin stood between the cousins. "No need to fight now!"

Carmen smiled at the strange man, who gave her a grin of his own, as he bent over, popping the knee of one of his chicken legs.

"Don't hurt yourself," Harman smirked.

"Already have," Clopin sighed. "I'm getting old. Carmen, Michel was looking for you."

"Michel?"

"You don't look too happy."

"Well…"

"Carmen!" Dena came bouncing around the corner, dressed in a pale pink. "I need to talk to you!"

She ran into Harman.

"Sorry!"

"Dena, that's my brother, Harman," Carmen giggled, fighting back a laugh.

Harman straightened out his tunic, revealing a thin strip of his taut stomach. He leaned down to look at Dena, examining her face. He had a charming look on his face, but only Carmen could see the lust underneath. "Where am I, because I must have died and gone to heaven!"

"I must have died and gone to hell," Dena hissed, but interest glimmered in her eyes.

"Well then!" Harman laughed. "Would you like to show me around?"

"How about I give you the grand tour, and you cut the sarcasm?" Dena shot. Harman shrugged and off they went. Carmen gaped and turned to Clopin.

"So much for the big news."

"I can't believe him," Carmen grumbled. "When he was younger, it didn't work so well. Now that he's grown into his nose, all he has to do is wink."

"It's hard being a beautiful man."

Carmen shot the man a look, as she leaned against him. His leg felt so thin against hers. Or rather, her own leg felt fat against his. She was glad her skirt hid them.

"He's not what I expected."

Carmen leant against the side of a building and stared at the people walking by. "How?"

"I expected an ugly, dirty man. But he seems too nice to dislike," Clopin murmured.

"That's why it hurts," Carmen murmured, unsure of whether or not she was even heard.

Michel squirreled out from an alley, looking around, He spotted Carmen. She grumbled, and Clopin looked at her incredulously.

"Carmen! I was looking for you," He jogged over and gabbed one of Carmen's hand gently. "How are you?"

"Fine," She tugged her hand away and scooted closer to Clopin. He was safer.

Michel didn't notice.

"I should set up," Clopin said, looking at the bell towers. Carmen's eyes snapped open and she struggled not to scream. He waved and walked away, not looking back.

Come back, please.

"Clopin…" She whispered.

"Did you talk to Dena?"

"Yeah."

"So you know?" Michel was much closer now. His voice was soft, hesitant. Carmen couldn't move, couldn't run away. She was well and truly trapped.

"No, I don't," She murmured.

"I, well," Michel stared at her with his dark brown eyes, his sinewy hands resting on her upper arms. "You know what I'm going to say."

Carmen was on the verge of tears. "Please, don't."

She did know.

Why couldn't he see? Why couldn't he understand that she could never return his feelings? She was looking away from him the same way Clopin looked away from her.

Michel kissed her with such force that she couldn't push him away, trying to only pushed her further in. Michel broke away and Carmen could have killed him. She would have given her right foot to kiss Clopin. And yes, she knew that a man like Clopin has had his fair share of women.

But Michel had stolen a kiss.

Her face flushed, brows drawn together.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean-" He backed up, tripping over his feet. His face turned red, his eyes blurring with tears. "- to embarrass you."

Michel ran away.

The tears fell silently down her face. Carmen wiped them away silently and tucked her sadness away. She folded the anger away as well, tucking it inside of her like a mirror into a handbag. She needed Harman now. He was the only one she had left.

Her favorite family.

Her only family.


	12. Come Back

Carmen's mouth was dry and had the strangest taste to it when she woke up the next morning. As if she had gargled with old wine and then chewed on mint leaves.

Aunt was ecstatic that Harman was home, she could see the hope in her green eyes. She was whole again, her family was whole again. It had always been hard on her. There were days she couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, because she had no idea whether or not Harman was alright. The stress in her voice and weight in her heart disappeared. And it happened to Carmen a little bit too. Even though Harman had sworn several times that he hated his family, it didn't matter.

He was back.

And their whole family was mending. The same way that they broke when he left. And he knew that. Harman knew that better than anyone else. And he took advantage of every piece of hope that he could find. That he created. As he always would.

And when she woke that morning, it was not to the beams of sun shining through her window. It was to the sounds of shuffling and banging. When she heard a door creaking open, she knew exactly what was happening. Throwing a dress over her head, she sprinted out of her room and outside the inn. Pausing for a second, she ran to the right, her bare feet slipping in the cold mud. It was early, her muscles still aching, but she couldn't stop. Because he was breaking her heart again.

"Harman!" She shrieked as she caught sight of a tall man in a yellow tunic.

He turned around, shocked. "Carmen!"

"What are you doing?" She screamed.

"I have to go."

"It's only been one day."

"I know."

"What about me?" The tears slipped down Carmen's face.

Harman sighed.

Carmen burst into tears.

"I have to."

"What about your mother?" Carmen sobbed. "Don't you know how happy she was to see you? How happy the whole family was? We knew that you wouldn't stay forever, but longer than a day at least!"

He walked over to her and hugged her tightly. She let him, even though she didn't want to. "Don't cry. I hate crying."

"Why?"

"It hurts."

"Then are you leaving?"

He ripped her apart to arms length. "Because I hate it!"

"You're an ass!"

Harman smirked. "You always were better at insults."

"This isn't a game!"

"I'll miss you," He hugged her once more, and turned to leave.

"I'll miss you too," she whispered, watching him walk away.

Carmen ran back to her room, wiping the tears off her face. She cleaned the mud off her legs and changed into a different dress. As she slipped on her boots, Carmen realized that she would have to be the one to tell her family what happened to Herman.

She would have to see their pain.

She couldn't do that.

And it was all Harman's fault.

Braiding her hair, she rinsed out her mouth with the water left in the washer. The golden earring that she wore before they entered Paris was at the bottom of her bag. She stuffed it into her purse pocket. Carmen ran out of the inn, rushing to the cathedral. It wasn't the right thing to do. She should have waited up to tell them all, but she shouldn't have had anything to tell them.


	13. Hope

The sun was rising over the city as Carmen sprinted down the streets to the one place she needed to be. The one place that scared her more than anything else.

Church.

She disagreed with most of the teachings of the church. Almost all of them in fact. Because she had listened to the sermons, she had read the books as well, and sometimes the two didn't match up. But she believed in God and Heaven and Hell. And she had no where else to go.

Walking up the great stone steps, she stared at the statues, whose eyes seemed to follow her. Carmen slowly pushed open the heavy wooden doors and ducked into one of the back pews. It was beautiful inside. In a bone chilling sort of way. Pillars lined the halls and candles softly glowed in every corner. Soft light from the stained glass windows poured into the building.

There was faint chanting from the front of the church, and she took a moment to revel in the beauty of the sound. When Carmen closed her eyes, she felt safe. The energy around her was pure and beautiful. It would be hours until the next mass. She hesitantly folded her hands together and bowed her head.

_God,_

_ I don't know if you can hear me. I know that my life was a gift from you, as everything I have had is my life was. But I need your help. I don't know what I'm supposed to do. Everything is so confusing; nothing is as it should be. Everyone is breaking my heart. And it won't stop hurting. And I don't want to hurt anyone else, but-!_

"Fancy seeing you here!"

Carmen swung her head around, and stared at Clopin, standing in the doorway of Notre Dame. He was completely at ease, while every muscle in her body had frozen up.

"Clopin!"

"Here I am."

"What are you doing here?" Carmen asked in a chipper tone, trying to mask her discomfort. She walked out of the church, staring at Clopin's clothes. He was wearing an orange shirt with yellow hose and bright red boots. "I was just trying to clear my mind."

"Good thing I came then," He grinned. "I can clear your mind of everything!"

"Keep wearing that and I'll be seeing stars for weeks!" Carmen joked lightheartedly.

"You're too much!" He teased, but looked at her kindly. Concerned. "What's wrong?"

"Harman," Carmen murmured as he led her down the steps. "He left this morning." Her stomach clenched as she shrugged carelessly. She cared more than anything in the world. Clopin gently set a hand on her shoulder, his touch sending electric surges down her spine. She shivered, and a single tear rolled down her cheek.

He leaned down slightly to look her in the eye. "Don't cry Carmen. Please."

"Why?" She breathed.

"Because the most beautiful woman in the world shouldn't cry," he whispered. His eyes flicked down her lips for a split second. Carmen hesitantly leaned in, and kissed him. Clopin wrapped his arms around her, knotting his long fingers into the hair on the nape of her neck. His kisses sent unnamable feelings through her. Carmen pressed a hand to his chest and felt the imprint of a rosary.

She drew back, speechless.

Clopin's face was so close to hers. One of his fingers twirled a lock of hair that escaped the braid. "You didn't like it?"

"I loved it," Carmen grinned. Clopin leaned in again and she placed a hand on his chest. "But wait. I only just met you. And I'm just- I don't want to rush this."

"I suppose a little longer wouldn't kill me," Clopin smirked, then clutched his heart, gasping. "Though it just might."

Carmen laughed. "I thought you were a better actor than that."

Clopin smirked and straightened up. He grabbed her hand, and shot lightning through her. "Help me set up."

Carmen gripped his hand tighter and laughed, smiling.


	14. Be Mine

"No, I hate it!" Carmen wrinkled her nose.

"How can you?" Clopin asked. "That must be impossible."

"It's so dry!" She fingered the fabric that hung in the back of his caravan. The front windows were closed. "I can't stand how boring it is!"

Clopin chuckled. "So! What story should I tell the children today?"

"Well," Carmen glanced around the cart at the different puppets on display. Thieves, princesses, hunters and peasants lined the walls. "You never did tell me the story about the bell ringer."

"I can't tell them that one yet," He sighed and pulled out a half finished puppet dressed in black robes. "Things are changing. This story isn't over yet. Besides, I haven't finished Frollo yet."

"I must be hard to capture so much ugliness in one doll!" Carmen laughed. "I could help you. If you want, that is."

"With what?"

"The Frollo puppet!"

"Good! Let's start!" Clopin picked up a small pot with a set of paintbrushes in it. He arranged several other pots with various shades of paint around the puppet. He dipped a thin brush into a pot of white paint, and began to brush on the hair.

Carmen grabbed another brush and gently dotted on the eyes and drew in the outline of a mouth. Both leaned back. Carmen bit her lip, squinting.

"It doesn't look right," Clopin mused, scratching his goatee.

Carmen dipped the paintbrush again and picked up the puppet. After a moment, she filled in his mouth with sharp teeth. "He's too happy. And… there, perfect."

She set the brush on the small table.

Clopin laughed and ran a hand over her hair. "Perfect! You know what? Today is the day I will tell of Beauty and the Beast! Now, we are ready!"

He swung the window open and Carmen sat on the low stool in the corner. "How do you earn money if you do this every day? An acrobatic show here and there can't be enough."

"You ask too many questions."

"And you don't answer them," Carmen sighed. There was so much that nobody would tell her. Michel said the same thing. Michel. She wanted to run away from Paris and never look back, just thinking of him. But Clopin… he made her want to stay forever.

"What's wrong?"

"I need to tell you something," She fingered the golden earring in her purse.

"What is it?"

"Michel," Carmen swallowed and stared at the floor. She laughed nervously and looked at the Frollo puppet. "Michel kissed me yesterday."

Clopin burst into laughter.

"It's not funny!"

"Do I have competition?" He managed to spit out between the laughter.

"No!" Carmen almost shrieked. "I don't like him! At all!"

"Why not?"

"I just don't!" She looked out of the window, blushing.

"That's not a very good reason," Clopin murmured. He sat next to her, his arm brushing against hers.

"…He's not you."

"I'm glad you chose me," He laughed silently and cupped Carmen's face in his hands. Clopin gently kissed her forehead. "If we wait, will you become my wife?"

Carmen stared at him. His eyes were so bright. So honest. And she had felt so safe around him, from the very first time they danced. "Yes."


	15. Come and Go

Carmen knocked on the door to her Aunt and Uncles room at the inn. She was still in a daze from watching Clopin's show. Just from being with him. Aunt opened the door and frowned. "Where were you? Where's Harman?"

"He left."

"He left?"

Carmen nodded.

"Again!"

Carmen took a deep breath and nodded again.

Aunt slammed the door in her face, her eyes watering.

"He left!" Whoops. Mirela was standing behind Carmen, her own eyes watering. There were red welts on her wrists and neck. Just from a few days on the stocks. Her back was already starting to scar over. Carmen could feel tears growing in her eyes, but swallowed them. "I didn't get to see him!"

Carmen gave her a quick hug. "It's fine. He left your gift on the bed."

"Why are you so happy?"

Carmen stared at her cousin for a few seconds. She couldn't really tell her. "I'm just happy today. I went to church."

"I need a nap," Mirela frowned.

"Then sleep," Carmen nudged her cousin to their room, ignoring the blisters on Mirela's wrists from the stocks. "I'm going to get some food." She walked out of the inn, daydreaming about Clopin and his story of Cinderella. He explained that he couldn't tell the story of the bell ringer yet. Because the story hadn't ended. But the children were so enthralled; she could see exactly what he meant about their eyes getting big.

Dena was sitting on a barrel. Carmen skipped over to her.

"Dena! How are you?"

The gypsy looked at Carmen, her eyes empty. "Did you kiss Michel?"

"I- I-" Carmen's heart sank.

"Harman left, I know," She said dryly. "Did you kiss Clopin?"

Carmen's eyes widened. "How did you…?"

Dena slowly shook her head. "Michel thought you liked him. So did I. So maybe you should think twice before kissing every man you meet."

"I just had my first kiss the day before!"

"Michel saw you yesterday. With Clopin in his stand. When he told me, I wasn't sure, but…" She looked disgusted. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"I only ever thought of Michel as my friend!"

"A few minutes ago he told me that everything he thought was real about you turned out to be a lie. You inspired him to stand up for himself against Frollo and his men. And now, now he doesn't believe that anymore."

"This has nothing to do with that!"

"You better find him before he does something he'll regret," Dena glared at Carmen with sharp eyes. She leapt off the barrel. "Michel isn't just someone you can practice flirting with."

Carmen struggled to breathe, a sob catching in her throat. She watched as Dena marched away. Carmen didn't know where to start. She ran through the streets, searching the crowd for Michel, panic in her heart. She hadn't meant for this to happen. She didn't know Clopin meant so much to him and Carmen…she only thought of herself. That she wanted Clopin. That she didn't want Michel. Her side started to throb, but she kept running, her feet flying over the cobbled stones. Everyone was going so fast and it seemed so hopeless. But she had to find him. She didn't know what he could do but Dena made it sound so horrible. She made Carmen sound so horrible.

She wished Clopin was there.

No!

She couldn't. It was those feelings that put her there in the first place. She had never meant to be so cruel. She was only listening to the whispers of her heart.

Carmen saw him.

"Michel!"

His head spun around, eyes red and wet. She ran to him and grabbed him arm before he could walk away. Carmen knew that Michel could easily overpower her, but he slowly turned around to face her.

"What?"

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry, but-"

"I'm sorry too," His eyes were dark. "I'm sorry things never change. Disappointment after disappointment. Heartbreak after heartbreak."

Carmen pulled back. "I can't apologize for how I feel. Only how I treated you."

"Carmen you can't save my soul, or whatever it was you were trying to do," Michel said softly. He didn't need to raise his voice. "No matter what you say, nothing is going to change."

"What do you want me to do?" Carmen asked, capping her impatience. She was trying to match his composure. Neither one of them wanted to break down into screaming or crying. Michel merely shook his head and started to walk away.

Carmen grabbed onto his arm again, but this time he shook her off. She screamed after him to come back, not caring about the others around her. Running after him, she tried to convince Michel to see sense, and calm down. But he ignored her. After a few minutes she stopped, knowing that nothing she could do would change his mind.

He had just rounded the corner when there was shouting. Carmen ran, scared out of her wits at what could have happened. There was a crowd of curious onlookers forming a wall between her and the scene. She pushed her way to the front, ignoring the dirty looks.

"Excuse me," Michel murmured. Two soldiers were standing in front of him, mischievous looks painted on their devil faces.

"Where are you going scoundrel?" One of them growled, grabbing Michel's arm.

Michel flung his arm away. "I need to get by."

The soldiers grumbled. "Then you shouldn't have caused a commotion, huh?"

"You approached me."

One of them grabbed a knife and slowly approached him. "What's in the bag?"

Michel grabbed the small bag hanging from his belt. "My business."

The unarmed soldier lunged for the bag, but Michel stepped back and punched his nose. Carmen heard the sound of bones crunching. The soldier fell to the ground. The other man swung his dagger, but Michel grabbed his wrist, twisting it behind the man's back. The fallen soldier stumbled to his feet and kicked Michel in the stomach. Gypsy hit soldier, causing him to fall once more.

The soldier with the dagger stole the opening and raised his arm.

Carmen screamed.


	16. Dear God in Heaven

Michel turned his head at the sound, and Carmen had to look into his eyes the moment the dagger plunged into his back. He stumbled for a moment, and fell onto his side.

Carmen ran. And ran.

Her hands clawed at her face and hair as she screamed, stumbling down the crowded streets of Paris. Her feet led her to Clopin's caravan. He was waiting for the children when he saw her. Clopin gasped at the sight and leapt out of the caravan, rushing to her.

"Carmen, what happened?"

"Michel!" Carmen cried, hugging her arms. Clopin gently wrapped his arms around her, but she pulled away, taking several steps back. "Michel…he's…he's-!"

"Carmen?"

"They stabbed him…in the back…oh my god his heart…I don't know...oh God!"

"Michel?"

She fell to her knees, the sobs racking her whole body. Carmen's eyes had glazed over with the tears, to the point where she could barely see. Clopin walked to her and laid a hand on her shoulder, but she pulled away. "Please, no."

He backed away. "Frollo…he better be alive."

Clopin guided her into the caravan and sat Carmen on the stool. He walked out as she began to sob harder. What if he was dead? What if he was the one for her, and Carmen let him slip away? What if all the excuses, all the stupid reasons she made up for not liking him was her own way of hiding the truth. And now the truth was that she missed him. Carmen didn't even know if he was dead, but she knew that she shouldn't have let him go. He was what she needed.

But Carmen chose what she wanted.

As the tears subsided, she looked out of the window to see Dena frantically talking to Clopin. She was crying hysterically.

Carmen's heart sank.

Dena was just mad. Michel was still alive. This was just a joke, some way of teaching her a lesson.

But Clopin turned around so she could see his face. Even through the anger, all of his grief spilled through. The tears fell over his high cheekbones and down his slender face, running smoothly off his tan skin. And any hope that Carmen had left was gone.

Michel was dead.

And it was all her fault.

Carmen stumbled out of the caravan and ran to Clopin, wrapping her arms around his thin frame. The pair fell to their knees, Clopin laying his head on hers. His tears slipped into her hair, and she grabbed him tighter.

Carmen wouldn't let him go.

She couldn't.


	17. King of Gypsies

**A/N: Next chapter is the last one! I want to thank everyone for the lovely reviews, favorites and follows! It means so much to me. Hope you enjoy.**

"I don't want to leave!"

"You can't stay!"

"Uncle, please!" Carmen cried. Her head snapped to the side as her Uncle backhanded her. He stormed into the inn.

"You're going and that's final!"

Carmen stumbled slightly, spitting blood out of her mouth. It had been so long since she had been hit, that she wasn't prepared for it. Rubbing the side of her face gently, she thought about her options. She couldn't leave Clopin after what just happened, but where would she stay? Not with Clopin, who already lived with Dena and Michel's family. Let alone propriety.

There was a tap on her shoulder. Carmen spun around, careful to keep covering her cheek. It was Gilbert. He grabbed her shoulders and looked her over. "Are you alright?" Carmen could only shrug. Gilbert had been crying as well, and the loss of a family member was much more painful than a slap on the cheek. "It's going to be fine."

"We're going to leave soon."

Gilbert's eyebrows shot to his hairline. "Where's Mira?"

"At the inn."

"Clopin was looking for you. He's at the cathedral," He whispered in Carmen's ear before walking away. After a few steps he turned around. "Thank you."

Carmen waved goodbye, watching him run away. She needed to talk to Clopin, to see him, but she didn't know what to say. Yes, she knew the family was going to leave eventually, but she wasn't ready to go. Her faith was slipping, and her heart was still broken. Carmen slowly drifted through the streets and crowds to the cathedral. Clopin was sitting on the steps, expertly twirling a stick though his fingers.

"Good morning," Carmen murmured, sitting next to him. She tucked her skirts around her legs meticulously. Clopin stared at her for a moment, and then smiled. The wrinkles around his mouth deepened, the say way her Uncle's did. He was so old. So much older than her. It felt wrong, loving him as she did, but she couldn't prevent it.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"Uncle says we're leaving soon."

Clopin continued to smile. "And what are you going to do?"

"Well," She sighed. Carmen couldn't bring him with her, nor could she stay with him. She absently ran a hand through Clopin's hair. "I don't know."

"Yes you do," He grabbed her hand gently, kissing the palm.

"Would you come with me?"

Clopin stared at her for a long moment, before looking away. "I can't."

"Why?"

"I have responsibilities Carmen, you know that."

"No, I don't," Carmen all but growled. She leapt onto her feet and stared Clopin down. "I can't know, because you never tell me anything. I know nothing about your family, or home, or how you even earn money! For all I know, you could be a murderer!"

Clopin stood up and stared her down. "I am."

Carmen staggered back. "You are?"

He rubbed his forehead and sighed. "Not everything can be solved so easily. When you grow up-"

"Grow up?"

"You're only seventeen."

"Does that make a difference?" Carmen almost shouted. "I have watched my parents die, been torn away from everything I once loved, lost my voice and have fallen in love with a man almost twice my age! Do you really think it makes a difference?"

"Let's not argue!" Clopin said firmly, in that commanding voice that made anyone listen. "Do you want to know who I am?"

"Yes," Carmen hissed.

"Clopin Trouillefou, King of Truands and the vagabonds, and successor to the Grand Coere," he said with a grand bow.

Carmen took another step back. "What?"

"I am King of the Gypsies." Clopin stepped closer to her, leaning into her ear and whispering. "We live together in the Court of Miracles, where Frollo can't persecute us. And I, my dear, am in charge. If one of Frollo's spies were to ever find the Court of Miracles, it would be my job to dispose of them in order to protect all of my people. That's why I can't leave; that's why I am called a murderer."

He leaned back and smiled proudly at Carmen.

Her eyes widened.

So did his grin.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

He only shrugged. "It's not as bad as it sounds. I happen to enjoy it. And you will too."

"I can't do that."

"Yes you can! We have plenty of food, plenty of room!" He said enthusiastically, grabbing her shoulders. "I've already mentioned it to a select few, and they're fine with the idea. Even if they weren't, I'm the king!"

"Clopin," Carmen murmured softly. "I'm not a gypsy."

"Yes you are!" Clopin grinned.

"No, my cousins are," She looked at Clopin, her eyes watering. "My father was a lord in Spain. I'll never be a part of your life."

"It doesn't matter. I can protect you from Frollo," He whispered. "You'd fit right in."

Carmen stepped back. "If I stayed, I would be the same as Harman."

"No you wouldn't!" Clopin exclaimed. "Harman left for himself. You would stay for love. You would stay for me."

Carmen started to tear up. "I- I can't."

"I can't wait for you."

"Just be patient."

"I don't have any patience!"

"Well you should!"

"I should have you!" He shouted angrily. Carmen started to cry and Clopin swept her into an angry, passionate kiss. He pulled away and hugged her tightly. "Don't cry."


	18. Goodbye

"I have something important to tell you," Mirela started, holding tightly onto Gilbert's hand as they stood in front of her parents. Carmen looked to caravan, tossing in her bag, knowing what was coming. "We're getting married!"

Her Uncle staggered in shock, leaning heavily against the cart. Carmen didn't think that he had even seen Gilbert before. Her Aunt ran to hug Gilbert tightly, before searching his face. She approved with a slight nod. Gilbert looked at Carmen's Uncle anxiously.

"Sir, I ask that I may join your family in your travels," He pleaded. "I'll earn my pay by playing my music where we go."

"Please!" Mirela begged.

"Of course!" Her uncle exclaimed, walking over to the couple and wrapping them both in a bear hug. Mirela crowed in laughter.

"Welcome to the family," Carmen whispered. She was so happy for Mirela, but at the same time, almost jealous. She could get married to man she loved. A man her age. A man that could be with her.

But Carmen couldn't marry Clopin. The man so much older than her. The man who had to stay behind. Everything had always worked out like a storybook for Mirela. And Carmen knew that she could come back for Clopin one day. That she could be with him. But by the time she came back, would she still want him?

Carmen felt a hand on her shoulder. It was her Aunt.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Carmen nodded her head slightly.

"Are you sure? I know I haven't paid you much attention recently. Things have just been so chaotic and…"

"Everything's fine."

"I've missed something, haven't I?"

Carmen turned around and blinked away the tears in her eyes. "That's not your fault."

"Hey," A small voice called out. Carmen turned around and saw Dena standing a few feet away, gently waving.

"Hi," Carmen walked over to her slowly, unsteadiness in her stomach. She looked hesitantly into Dena's beautiful eyes.

"So," She started, equally hesitant. "Gilbert's running off?"

"Look, I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt-" Carmen tried to start.

Dena interrupted. "It's fine. It's all in the past. I learned to live for every day- every hour. Are you leaving too?"

Carmen nodded softly. There was a moment of silence. "I'm going to miss it here…"

"You're going to miss Clopin."

"More than anything," Carmen sighed, and brushed back her hair. She shrugged. "Have you seen him?"

"He said that he would come to see you off," Dena said, looking around. "When are you leaving?"

"When Gilbert brings his things."

"It won't take long."

Carmen shook her head. "Everything has become so confusing, in so little time! I can't imagine what life for you must be like."

"I'll pull through, don't worry," Dena assured her. "I'll keep an eye on Clopin as well. He's a terrible flirt."

Carmen blushed. "I really don't have any right to complain…"

"Forget what I said," Dena was soft, but forceful with a small smile on her face. She never took the straightest path. "But I should go."

"Take care of yourself."

"I'll remember you." She hugged Carmen tightly before walking away. A spring in her step, her clothes rippled in the breeze. Carmen turned around for one last look at her family. But Clopin had arrived. He marched straight up to her, removed his hat, and bowed.

"Good day!"

"Good day."

He straightened out and looked down at Carmen. "Don't act so sad! Whoever said a sad girl was attractive didn't have his mind right! Chin up!"

Carmen laughed. He said that to her the first- the only time they danced. "I'm going to miss you saying things that FILL my heart with happiness."

"You'll miss everything about me!" Clopin quipped, smirking.

"Excuse me?" Carmen cupped her hand to her ear, smiling. "I can't hear you; your outfit is too loud!"

Clopin laughed, his face, whole body was glowing with excitement. "I'm going to miss you saying things that fill MY heart with happiness!"

"Don't fool yourself!" Carmen rolled her eyes. "You'll miss everything about me!"

Clopin laughed in defeat. "Really though, I wish you'd stay."

"I-" Carmen's fingers traced her stinging cheek. It had just begun to bruise, and she would have to live with it for the next week. "I wish that too."

"Then one more time, let me beg of you," He gently guided her to a barrel nearby and sat her on top. "Stay in this city that you love, this city that speaks to your heart. Stay with me."

His hand cupped her cheek. "And you'll never have to go back."

"I don't know," Carmen whispered. Tears stung at her eyes. "I love you. I love you so much. But, they're the only family I have left. I can't leave them."

Clopin bumped his forehead against hers, staring in her eyes. "But you'll have me."

"Will that be enough?"

"It will have to be," Clopin murmured, his eyes filled with as much pain as hers.

There was a long pause.

"Let me get my bag," Carmen whispered.

**The End**

**A/N: I'm currently working on a sequel, which takes place during the timeline of the movie, about two years after the events of this story. It will be published soon. Thank you everyone for the wonderful reviews!**


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